


Kissing Like a Car Crash

by jpo2107, ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: Borderlands, borderlands: the pre-sequel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:45:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7560868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jpo2107/pseuds/jpo2107, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a long time since Timothy's seen Wilhelm, and they didn't exactly part on the best of terms. And unfortunately for Tim, Wilhelm seems bent on reminding Tim just how attractive he can be.</p><p>Well. Two can play at that game.</p><p>A side-story to <i>Grapes of Wrath Can Only Sweeten Your Wine.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tim

**Author's Note:**

> This story definitely wouldn't exist without [Jillus](http://jillus.tumblr.com), who built this ridiculous side story along with me as a counterbalance to the unrelenting angst that is _Grapes of Wrath_. It is meant as a companion to that story, and can be read concurrently or separately, but it probably won't make as much sense if you don't read that one first.
> 
> The amazing illustrations are all by Jillus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between Chapter 9 and Chapter 10 of _Grapes of Wrath_.

Timothy’s had a rough couple of days.

Not as rough as Jack has, of course. Tim’s still reeling from the whiplash though, from mourning his impossible brother and comforting his niece to the overwhelming relief that Jack is miraculously  _ not _ dead, but apparently Rhys is involved somehow and Jack’s not telling him everything and  _ Athena’s  _ here and just - Tim’s got a lot on his mind, ok.

He glances over his shoulder as he leaves the study, watching Jack watch Rhys slumped in the chair. There’s something going on there, that much is clear. It’s been a long time since Tim’s seen Jack that angry, and any way Tim tries to put the pieces together - well, he doesn’t like what he comes up with.

He shakes his head, but he’s still distracted as he rounds the doorway which is when he runs face-first into a very familiar chest.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” The apology is automatic, before Tim’s brain catches up with his mouth, before he looks up and sees who it is, and then -

“What are  _ you _ doing here,” Tim says flatly.

Wilhelm shrugs. “Helping,” he says, and of course, of course that’s all Tim gets.

Tim should have fucking known. First Athena, and Jack had mentioned Nisha too - why not Wilhelm while he’s at it?

“The whole gang, huh,” Tim says, crossing his arms.

Wilhelm raises his eyebrows. “Not really,” he says pointedly, and Tim scowls.

Great. The first time they’ve seen each other in years, and Wilhelm’s still hung up on that.

As if it hadn’t been Tim who had woken up to an empty apartment.

Tim rolls his shoulders, as if he can shrug off the weight settling on them. “Well. Don’t let me keep you, then.” He moves to step around Wilhelm, but Wilhelm stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

Wilhelm’s hands are just as big and warm as Tim remembers.

“It’s good to see you, Tim.” He sounds sincere, and as Tim looks up Wilhelm gives him an extremely thorough once-over. Wilhelm winks, and Tim flushes, because apparently he still can’t control that particular reaction. “ _ Really _ good.”

He squeezes Tim’s shoulder and moves on down the hall, and against his better judgement Tim turns to watch.

Wilhelm’s ass looks just as great as Tim remembers, too.

God  _ damnit. _


	2. Wilhelm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between Chapters 11 and 12 of _Grapes of Wrath_.

“God  _ damnit.”  _ Tim’s not the wall-punching type, but he looks close to it after Jack fills him in.

Wilhelm leans in the door-frame and watches as Tim closes his eyes and tips his head back, breathing deeply and deliberately. Between the two brothers Jack has always burned hotter, quick to anger but quick to burn out as well. Tim’s anger has always been a quieter, colder thing, and that fools people into thinking he’s the nice one.

It’s not that Tim’s not  _ nice _ , Wilhelm thinks as Tim’s hands flex. Compared to Jack almost anyone is.

He’s just not nice  _ all of the time. _

“You’re so hot when you’re mad.” Tim’s eyes fly open and he turns to lock eyes with Wilhelm.

“ _ Not now, Wilhelm _ ,” Tim says through gritted teeth.

“No, I mean it.” Wilhelm pushes off the door-frame and approaches Tim. “Your jaw sets, and your eyes get all flinty. I like it.” He lifts his hand and brushes his thumb over the freckles on Tim’s cheek, and smirks at the blush trailing after it. Even after all this time, it stirs something in him to get a rise out of Timothy.

It soothes the ache, somehow.

Tim jerks back from Wilhelm’s hand several seconds later than he really should have. Wilhelm’s hand drops, but he takes smug satisfaction at the flush crawling up Tim’s neck.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Tim says.

Wilhelm raises an eyebrow. “No.”

 

Tim scowls, tugging at his collar.“Stop it. You always do this,” Tim complains.

“You always let me,” Wilhelm says, stepping in again. It’s true - Tim has always allowed Wilhelm liberties he would never afford someone else, and it looks like that hasn’t changed either. It pains Wilhelm a little, to realize how little has changed - how much he still wants Timothy, even after all this time, like it was just yesterday that Tim had announced he was leaving.

Tim isn’t unaffected either, by the looks of things, and Wilhelm wonders suddenly how far he can press that. Wilhelm won’t lie to himself - he’s still pretty much dying to get his hands on that ass again. Fucking Tim again might be a nice little reward after Jack sorts out whatever mess he’s gotten himself into, and it might - it might resolve some things for Wilhelm.

There’s a sudden throat-clearing from the doorway, and Tim jumps, tearing his eyes away. Athena stands there, arms folded, glaring at the both of them. Wilhelm doesn’t take it personally - glaring is pretty much Athena’s resting face. It doesn’t necessarily mean she’s about to deck you (although to be fair, she’s probably never far away from that at any given time either).

“Janey’s going to be here in a few hours. She’s bringing equipment that you’ll want to take a look at,” she says, directing the last bit at Wilhelm.

Tim brightens. “Janey’s coming?”

“Yeah.” Her frown eases up and Athena smiles slightly, which for her is an impressive show of emotion. “She’ll be glad to see you. She missed you.”

“Don’t you start,” Tim says, crossing his arms.

“I’m not starting anything.” Athena waves a hand at him as she turns to leave. “She’ll be glad to see you,” she repeats. “I am too.” And then she’s gone.

Wilhelm glances back at Tim and he looks - he looks vaguely wistful. Then he looks back at Wilhelm and the blush is back in full force.

Oh yeah. Wilhelm can totally get Tim to crack.


	3. Warfare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place between chapters 11 and 12 of _Grapes of Wrath._

**Tim**

Tim shuffles into the kitchen the next morning and is confronted by Wilhelm's bare chest, which is both an amazing start to the day and incredibly unfair.

 

“Hey, Tim,” and oh  _ no _ , Wilhelm’s bass rumble is even more rumbly in the morning. “Coffee?” Tim nods, cautiously - that  _ is _ what he came in here for - and Wilhelm pours him a mug, adding cream but no sugar. Just the way he knows Tim likes it, Tim thinks despairingly. Tim accepts his mug with a murmured thanks, leaning against the counter and breathing in the life-giving aroma. He eyes Wilhelm as he takes the first sip, taking in the full glory that is Wilhelm without a shirt.

Wilhelm has even more scars than he remembers. Tim supposes this is not unusual, given Wilhelm’s line of work, but he’s still surprised by the faint twinges of - worry? Anger? - as he catalogs each new mark on Wilhelm’s body. There’s shiny new skin surrounding a scar on his shoulder, and a still-healing mark on his side, and those are just the ones Tim can see right now. Wilhelm shifts, muscles flexing, and Tim feels his mouth go a little dry -

Wait a minute.

Tim narrows his eyes at Wilhelm over his mug. Wilhelm  _ knows _ how Tim feels about his scars. They’re physical proof of how unstoppable Wilhelm is, badges earned each time someone went up against him and failed. Back when they were together, Tim used to trace them with his tongue, laying kisses on each mark of Wilhelm’s prowess.

Wilhelm also knows that Timothy requires coffee the first thing in the morning, and here he is. Shirtless.

What a  _ coincidence _ .

“Something on your mind, Tim?” Wilhelm sets his mug down and leans back on the counter, and ok, he is  _ definitely  _ doing that on purpose.

Timothy sets his nearly-full mug down with a  _ clink _ . “Nothing at all,” he says tightly, turning to leave. Out of the corner he sees Wilhelm start to frown, but he resolves to ignore it.

He’s not going to let Wilhelm get to him.

* * *

 

**Wilhelm**

Wilhelm finds Athena in Jack’s library, flipping through a file folder. “Athena, you are a serious person and I respect that. I need your help on a serious matter.”

Athena looks up from the file and raises her eyebrows. “Okay, shoot.”

Wilhelm extends his arms out. “Is this shirt tight enough? Do you think it shows off my biceps? I’m trying to make Tim come in his pants.

Athena’s face freezes in a pained rictus, then collapses into resignation. “Go away,” she suggests.

“Nah, you’re right,” Wilhelm muses, and pulls a knife off of his belt. “It should be sleeveless.”

“How do you know he’s even still interested in you,” Athena says, sounding longsuffering. Wilhelm doesn’t know why; this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to  _ him _ in years.

“Is that a serious question.” Wilhelm’s frowns and he carefully slices the seam on first one arm, then the other. “Have you seen the way he looks at me?”

“I try not to,” Athena says, rolling her eyes.

Wilhelm grunts, tearing the last reluctant threads off. “Well, trust me. He’s still into me.” He poses in the doorway. “How do I look?”

“Sleeveless,” Athena says dryly.

Wilhelm grins. “Perfect.”

* * *

 

**Tim**

Wilhelm’s next move is apparently to ambush Tim in the hallway.

 

“Tim! So nice to see you again,” Wilhelm purrs, draping himself over Tim’s back.

“You literally saw me two hours ago,” Tim says, trying to shrug Wilhelm off, but Wilhelm is holding him firmly, and Tim has to suppress a shudder at the strength in those arms.

“Yeah, well. Seems longer.” Wilhelm shoves a latte into Tim’s hands. “You didn’t finish your coffee this morning, so I made you this.”

Tim takes it suspiciously. He doesn’t want to encourage Wilhelm, but the lure of coffee is strong. “Since when do you know how to make lattes?” He takes a sip. It’s pretty good.

“Lots of things you don’t know about me, Tim,” and there’s something there in Wilhelm’s voice, something Tim can’t quite put his finger on, but when he tries to turn to look at him Wilhelm holds him in place.

“Enjoy it,” Wilhelm says, and then he leans around a plants a  _ kiss _ on Tim’s cheek. Tim is so surprised that he freezes in place, and by the time he remembers how to work his limbs again Wilhelm has made a strategic exit.

 

Tim turns, still clutching the latte, and stares down the empty hallway. Wilhelm is  _ definitely _ doing this on purpose. He takes a contemplative sip of the really quite good coffee.

Wilhelm wants to get him all riled up, huh? Well.

Tim grins into his coffee. Two can play at that game.

* * *

**Wilhelm**

Wilhelm is feeling pretty good about himself. He’s managed to ambush Tim not once but twice with a strategically sleeveless shirt, and Tim’s blushes are getting more intense.

 

Yeah. This plan is totally working.

He’s feeling pretty pleased with himself right up until he passes Jack’s home gym and hears the sound of exertion coming from within. He glances in on his way past and nearly trips over himself.

 

Tim’s working at the pull-up bar, and apparently he’s kept himself in shape because he’s levering himself up and down easily. He’s flushed and sweaty, but he makes it look  _ good _ , and Wilhelm feels a bit like sweating himself as he tracks the beads of perspiration rolling down Tim’s back.

Tim does one last rep and drops down, breathing heavily. He turns and sees Wilhelm standing in the doorway, and grins.

“Remember when I used to do those off of your forearm? You were like a rock.” Wilhelm gulps, because he  _ does _ remember; he remembers  _ very well _ the sensation of Tim using him as gym equipment. In more ways than one. 

Tim mops his face with a towel and heads for the door. He slaps Wilhelm’s bicep with the back of his hand as he passes.

“Still got it, I see. Good to know,” and there’s something about his smile that Wilhelm just doesn’t trust, but that doesn’t stop him from staring at Tim’s ass as he walks away.

Tim isn’t...no, he wouldn’t.

Would he?

 

* * *

 

**Tim**

When Janey arrives, Tim lets her unload her equipment and say hello to Athena before he draws her aside.

“Look, I know we haven’t seen each other in years, but -”

“Damn right, we haven’t.” Janey pulls him in for a hug, ruffling his hair. “And whose fault is that, huh?”

“Okay, okay.” Tim pulls back, grinning, but then he sobers. “Janey, I have a very important job that I need help with.”

Janey’s expression turns solemn. “Okay, this sounds serious. Lay it on me.”

Tim feels himself grinning. “I need to drive Wilhelm out of his  _ fucking _ mind.”

Janey throws her arms in the air. “I’m in! I knew you two would make up someday,” she says slyly, and Tim coughs.

“Yeah, well. I don’t know about that.” Janey’s grin slips a little, and Tim smiles encouragingly at her. “But anything’s possible, right?”

It certainly feels like it, later, when Tim’s jogging route accidentally-on-purpose takes him past where Athena and Wilhelm are loading equipment into Janey’s van. Tim stops just in Wilhelm’s line of sight and bends over, bracing his hands on his knees, making sure his Springs-approved short-shorts are stretched tight.

When he’s sure he’s got Wilhelm’s attention, Tim winks, and Wilhelm nearly drops an expensive receiver on his foot.

Score one for Tim.

* * *

**Wilhelm**

So Tim wants to play dirty, huh?

Wilhelm can play dirty.

 

* * *

 

**Tim**

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I am 110% on board with this mission,” Janey says cautiously, and the absence of her usual exuberance makes Tim look up from where he’s cutting the scoop in his tank top even deeper. “But are you sure Wilhelm’s still interested? I’m just asking,” she adds quickly.

“Janey,” Tim says patiently, putting down the scissors. “Did you see the way he looked at me?”

Janey thinks about it for a minute, then her eyes light up. “Aww, hell yeah, we’re going to have that mountain man crying on his knees before you know it, mate. High five,” and Tim matches her grin, leaning over to slap her palm.

It’s good to have friends.

  


It’s even better to see Wilhelm’s face as Tim slowly,  _ suggestively _ runs his lips up a popsicle and then runs his tongue over his lips.

“Do you  _ see that _ ,” Wilhelm hisses to Athena, who looks like she’s trying to aggressively ignore everyone around her.

Tim swirls his tongue around the head of the popsicle. It’s July, he has plausible deniability, and it’s totally worth it for the way Wilhelm’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

Wilhelm may have started this, but Tim is pretty sure he’s winning.

 

* * *

 

**Wilhelm**

Wilhelm makes a strategic retreat inside the house after the popsicle incident. He’s regrouping. Also, Athena insisted that he inventory their arsenal with her, and he doesn’t feel like he’s in a position to say no to her right now.

They’ve got an impressive array of guns spread out on a table and are cleaning and re-assembling each one when Tim wanders by - coincidentally? Wilhelm’s not so sure anymore - and stops in the doorway. His eyes alight on the rifle on the table, and he takes a few steps into the room, coming to a stop with his hand hovering over the stock.

“May I?” he says, addressing the question to Athena, who nods.

 

Tim picks up the rifle and sights down it, out the window. His hands haven’t lost any of their surety and Wilhelm thinks,  _ shit _ . Tim’s easy confidence behind a scope hasn’t lost any of its appeal, and Wilhelm is feeling a little uncomfortable in the pants region.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? We could use a sniper if this goes sideways.” Athena puts down the pistol she’s been cleaning and rests her hands on her knees. “Wouldn’t hurt to have an actual pair of eyes covering the building.”

Wilhelm feels his breath catch at that. He hasn’t forgotten what it felt like to have Tim covering his back, a steady hand and a sure shot. It was a good feeling. But Tim didn’t do that anymore, he had made it abundantly clear…

Tim hums to himself, putting the rifle down and stroking it absently. He looks up at Wilhelm and whatever he sees on Wilhelm’s face makes him smile, small and sly, and Wilhelm grudgingly chalks up another point to Tim’s side in this contest they’re having.

There are a lot of points on Tim’s side of Wilhelm’s mental chalkboard.

“That could be - yeah, that could be good,” Tim says thoughtfully. “I’ll mention it to Jack.” He leaves the room with a casual wave over his shoulder, and Wilhelm frowns at Athena.

“What was that about? Tim left all this behind, you know that.”

Athena rolls her eyes. “This is his brother. He’ll do it. And we could use the backup.” She picks up the gun again and eyes him balefully. “Besides, you asked me to help you, didn’t you? This is me helping.”

If this is Athena  _ helping _ , Wilhelm’s not sure he’s going to survive the next few days.


	4. Tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during Chapter 13 of _Grapes of Wrath_.

Tim takes the stairs up to his vantage point two at a time, gloves flexing on the strap of his duffel bag. It’s strange how light he feels doing this, considering that he had sworn  _ never again _ , but the rifle is a comfortable weight on his back and even pulling on the dark clothing he’s wearing had felt  _ right.  _ Tim supposes there’s always a sort of serenity in doing something you’re good at, and he  _ is  _ good at this.

Jack has been surprised but pleased when Tim said he wanted to come along when Rhys met with Vallory, and he had clapped Tim on the back but hadn’t asked any questions, which was good.

It meant Tim hadn’t had to lie to him.

Wilhelm had looked at him askance, but he hadn’t asked any questions either, which was also good. Out of all of them, Wilhelm was probably the most likely to have guessed the real reason Tim wanted to come along, but if he had any ideas he had kept them to himself. So instead Tim got to admire the stretch of the black turtleneck over Wilhelm’s shoulders and the snug fit of the holster on his sides.

Wilhelm’s always looked good in his combat gear, and Tim’s not above openly ogling him. He’s pretty sure he’s won whatever juvenile competition Wilhelm thought he could start, especially given the way Wilhelm had gulped when Tim had come downstairs all in black, whistling as he adjusted his gloves.

All’s fair in love and war, right? And this is a little bit of both.

Speaking of which...

Tim’s not sure what Jack hopes to get out of this ridiculous plan he’s put together; surely there are better ways to find out who took out a hit on him. This whole thing seems more about punishing Rhys than about finding information, and that - that Tim’s not going to argue with.

Tim sets up his equipment and takes up his position behind the rifle, settling the stock against his shoulder. It’s funny how it all comes back to him - the way his breathing slows, the studied calm that comes over him when he’s looking at the world through a scope, the intimate feel of the trigger against his finger.

Tim sights down the rifle and acquires his target.

  


Tim can see the whole scene clearly through the bay windows, and his cross-hairs settle unerringly on Rhys.

Tim knows his brother. For all of his bluster, he hasn’t dumped Rhys’ body in a back alley yet - and Tim knows that if Jack hasn’t done it by now he’s not going to. Tim knows that while Jack is still deeply angry, he is searching for a reason not to be. He’s looking for a way back to the Rhys that he knew.

Timothy is not so forgiving.

Tim breathes in, and out, and rests his finger on the trigger.

It would be so easy. No one but Tim has eyes on the room, and from the looks of it things are going south in a hurry. Tim watches as one of Vallory’s underlings locks the door behind them, and Vallory opens one of the desk drawers and draws out a heavy-looking pistol.

See, Tim even has plausible deniability. There’s a gun in Vallory’s hand - who would bother to prove that the bullet in Rhys’ head had come from Tim?

“Jack,” Tim says into his mike. “If you’re going to pull him out you need to do it now.” In a few minutes it won’t matter, but Jack did ask him to keep an eye on the situation.

He didn’t say anything about ending it prematurely. It probably didn’t occur to him.

Tim breathes out, and slowly tenses his trigger finger.

Rhys is on his knees, one hand holding his ribs. Another blow sends him down, barely holding himself up with one arm, and he mutters something to low for Tim to catch over the silence spreading in his head, something about  _ letters _ . It doesn’t matter. Vallory is standing over him, gun in hand, and Tim takes careful aim -

And then Jack swears over the line, and there’s the sound of a scramble from the van.  _ Of course _ , Tim thinks resignedly.

He shifts his aim two millimeters to the left and fires.

Jack breaks down the door while Vallory’s underlings are still trying to comprehend that their boss has a hole in her head. Tim drops another one of them, and then Wilhelm and Athena are pouring in behind Jack and the room is too busy for him to get a clean shot.

Tim watches anyway; watches as Athena and Wilhelm make short work of the remaining henchman, as Jack rolls Rhys’ body over. Watches Jack shake Rhys, then shout at him, then gesture frantically at Athena, who pulls out her phone, presumably to call an ambulance. Tim doesn’t know how they’re planning on explaining the room full of dead bodies, but that’s not his problem.

His problem is staring out the cracked window straight at him. Wilhelm salutes him, then turns away as Jack barks something at him.

As sirens start to blare in the distance, Tim pulls back from the scope and starts to pack up his equipment. Now that this business is taken care of, Tim supposes Wilhelm will go back to doing whatever kind of shady black-ops work apparently keeps him occupied these days.

Tim has something to say to him before he does.


	5. Wilhelm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between Chapters 14 and 15 of _Grapes of Wrath_.

Wilhelm finds Tim in an upstairs room back at Jack’s estate. He has his arms folded and is ostensibly looking out the window, but he hasn’t moved in the five minutes Wilhelm’s been standing in the doorway and Wilhelm is pretty sure Tim’s not actually seeing anything right now.

Tim used to get like this sometimes, after missions, when the adrenaline faded and the second-guessing set it. Wilhelm never had much use for it - you deal with a situation the best you can, and afterwards there’s not much you can do about it - but he supposes that it’s different for Tim, watching from a distance and judging the scene moment by moment.

Wilhelm wonders idly what Tim saw through his scope today.

“Nice shooting,” he says instead, because it  _ was _ . Wilhelm sees Tim’s reflection blink, and then he’s looking back over his shoulder, eyes refocusing.

“Thanks,” he says guardedly, as if waiting for the punchline, but Wilhelm doesn’t have one. Wilhelm strolls into the room, coming even with Tim by the window and Tim watches him warily. It makes Wilhelm tired, a little bit, to see Tim looking at him like that, and Wilhelm’s not one for second guessing but for a moment he wishes he could turn back the clock, that they could reset all of this to before everything went wrong, before Tim  _ left _ .

Not that it would change anything. But it would be nice to pretend, for a while.

Tim shifts a little, but doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t changed; he’s still wearing the dark sweater from earlier, the combat pants that cling unfairly to his ass, and - Wilhelm blinks at Tim’s hands.

“I didn’t know you still had those.” He hadn’t recognized the gloves this morning, but up close he can see them for what they are.

Tim blinks, then looks down at his hands as if he’s forgotten what he’s wearing. “Oh, yeah.” Tim lifts a hand and flexes it, black leather stretching over his knuckles. “They were too good to get rid of. You got them for me, remember?”

Wilhelm does. It had been an impulse purchase; it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Tim always complained about not being able to feel the trigger as well under gloved fingers, so he would usually cut the fingers off off a pair and use those until they fell apart. Wilhelm hadn’t thought much about it until he had taken one of his jackets into a leatherworker for repairs and spied a rack of hand-stitched fingerless gloves. He’d had to guess at Timothy’s size - this was before Wilhelm knew every inch of Tim’s body better than his own - but Tim’s surprised and delighted smile when Wilhelm had dropped the gloves in his lap had been worth the frankly ridiculous price he had paid for them.

Wilhelm hadn’t known Tim had kept  _ anything _ from that part of his life. He certainly hadn’t seemed like he’d planned to.

That was why Wilhelm had packed up his few possessions in the middle of the night, while Tim was still sleeping. The way he figured it, he was just saving Tim the trouble of dumping him along with the rest of this life he clearly didn’t care for anymore.

Wilhelm can tell the exact second he’s been staring at Tim’s hands for too long because Tim gets that sharp grin and the competitive glint in his eye that means  _ trouble _ . Tim looks Wilhelm right in the eye and brings one of his hands up to his mouth, and now he’s gripping the glove with his  _ teeth _ and dragging it off and this is  _ too much - _

Wilhelm’s got his hands on Tim before he even realizes that he’s decided to move, one hand fisted in Tim’s hair, pulling his head back, while the other one grips Tim’s hip, holding him in place. This close, Tim smells like leather and gunsmoke, but Tim doesn’t try to pull away, just grins at Wilhelm,  _ daring _ him. So Wilhelm closes the last few inches between them and kisses Tim hard and thorough, the way he’s wanted to since he first laid eyes on Timothy again.

Tim kisses back fiercely, pressing into him as much as Wilhelm’s grip will let him, and a tiny part of Wilhelm is relieved that he hasn’t misread this entirely. That some part of Tim still wants Wilhelm, that Tim wasn’t just being an aggravating little shit, that Wilhelm hasn’t just called Tim’s bluff in the worst way.

When Wilhelm pulls back Tim’s eyes blink slowly open, and then his mouth spreads in a self-satisfied smirk.

“I win,” he purrs, still caught in Wilhelm’s grip, and Wilhelm is reminded that Tim is fully capable of multitasking - that he can still want Wilhelm  _ and _ take the opportunity to be an aggravating little shit.

“I’ll show you winning,” Wilhelm growls, and Tim’s eyes darken right before Wilhelm kisses him again. Wilhelm keeps Tim’s mouth occupied as he walks Tim backward out of the room and into the hall. It’s only a short distance to the bedroom Tim’s been using, which is good, because they keep tripping over each others feet, Tim apparently more interesting in climbing Wilhelm like a tree than where they’re going. Eventually Wilhelm picks him up bodily and Tim makes an agreeing noise into Wilhelm’s mouth, wrapping his legs around Wilhelm’s waist and draping his arms around Wilhelm’s shoulders. Tim always used to enjoy when Wilhelm would show off his strength, and that doesn’t appear to have changed, not if the way he shudders in Wilhelm’s grip is any indication.

When they finally make it to the bedroom, Wilhelm kicks the door shut behind them and leans against it, letting Tim slide down. Now that he’s got Tim where he wants him, Wilhelm wants to take his  _ time _ , but Tim doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo, trying to kick off his boots and undo Wilhelm’s belt at the same time.

“Easy,” Wilhelm says, covering Tim’s hands with his own. “We’ve got all night.”

“I know,” Tim replies, breathless. He moves one hand down to squeeze at Wilhelm through his pants, and Wilhelm hisses as he feels himself hardening under Tim’s fingers.

“We’ve got all night,” Tim repeats with a wicked grin, “but I want to have this in me at least twice before we’re done here, so come  _ on _ , let’s get  _ going. _ ”

_ Before we’re  _ done _ here _ . Wilhelm can’t help but feel a little twinge of disappointment at that, but Tim’s fingers are stroking firmly up and down his dick, and if Tim’s counting on at least two rounds…

Wilhelm grabs the hem of Tim’s shirt and lifts, pulling it up over Tim’s chest. Tim chuckles, raising his arms to help. “Now you’re getting it,” he says, muffled, as Wilhelm pulls it over his head. Between the two of them they make short work of the rest of their clothes and then Wilhelm can pull Tim against him and feel every jump of Tim’s skin, every twitch of his muscles as Wilhelm runs his hands over him. Wilhelm turns Tim around and bends him over the bed, and Tim lets Wilhelm manhandle him without protest, bracing his forearms on the mattress and looking back over his shoulder.

“Stuff’s in the nightstand,” he says, and Wilhelm raises his eyebrows at that even as he pulls the drawer open, one hand on the small of Tim’s back. “Jack likes to be a good host that way,” Tim says with a wink as Wilhelm pulls out lube and condoms, and Wilhelm huffs because that is so  _ Jack _ , but he’s reaping the benefits so he can’t complain.

Tim’s breath rushes out in a sigh as Wilhelm presses one slicked-up finger into him, and he shifts his legs wider. Wilhelm smooths one hand up Tim’s back as he stretches Tim open, first with one finger, then with two, and when he tries three Tim rocks back to meet him with a pleased little hum. Wilhelm curls his fingers and Tim jolts up onto his toes, body suddenly strung taut.

“ _ Wilhelm _ .” He loves hearing Tim say his name, and he especially loves it when Tim says it like  _ this _ , all desperate and demanding. Tim looks over his shoulder and tries to scowl, but his toes are curling as Wilhelm works his fingers inside him. “Stop teasing and  _ fuck me _ already.”

And who is Wilhelm to turn down an invitation like that? He pulls his fingers out and rolls on a condom, and when he lines himself up and starts pressing in he has to grit his teeth to hold back the groan that wants to escape. He can feel his fingers digging bruises into Tim’s hip, but Tim doesn’t seem to mind, rocking back onto Wilhelm’s dick with enthusiasm, encouraging Wilhelm deeper. Wilhelm works himself in inch by inch, until his hips are flush with Tim’s ass, and pauses for a second to catch his breath.

Tim grinds back against him, trying to get him to move. “ _ Wilhelm _ .” His voice this time is definitely desperate, and Wilhelm grins.

He pulls back, and his first thrust rocks Tim up onto his toes. Tim clutches at the bedspread, lips parting on a strangled sound. Wilhelm makes sure each thrust is hard and deep, the way he knows Tim likes it, and pretty soon he’s driving little sounds out of Tim with each snap of his hips. Tim’s got his eyes closed, head turned to the side, and Wilhelm can see the smile stretching across his face. He still looks entirely too composed, though, so Wilhelm grabs him by the shoulder and hauls him upright.

“ _ Gnnh _ .” The noise Tim makes probably doesn’t qualify as speech, but that’s all right - it makes Wilhelm feel like he’s doing his job right. He grinds his hips into Tim’s ass for the noise that drags out of him, and Tim braces his arms against the bed.

“Feeling good, huh Tim?” Wilhelm says in Tim’s ear. “Did you miss this?” Tim bites his lip and nods, eyes still screwed shut, and Wilhelm doesn’t know which of those questions he’s answering but it warms him nonetheless.

“Good,” Wilhelm purrs, stepping back and letting his dick slip out. “Then you’re going to  _ love  _ this.”

Tim makes a little questioning noise, but it turn into a squawk as Wilhelm grabs him around the waist and tosses him up on the bed. Wilhelm follows close behind, turning Tim over on his back and hooking his hands behind Tim’s legs. Tim’s eyelids flutter shut as Wilhelm thrusts roughly back into him, and he can tell when he hits just the right spot because Tim arches up off the bed, hands fisting in the covers.

 

Tim’s got “ _ yes”  _ and “ _ Wilhelm”  _ spilling from his lips in broken stutters, and Wilhelm thinks he could make Tim come like just this, on his dick alone. A minute later he’s sure of it, when Tim’s body tightens and his face screws up and he clenches down around Wilhelm, dick twitching and painting his stomach and chest in ropes of come. Wilhelm can feel his own release building in the pit of his stomach, but it’s always been a matter of pride to get Tim to come first, and he’s smugly satisfied to know that he hasn’t lost the knack. Tim blinks his eyes open, still bleary with post-orgasmic haze. When they fix on Wilhelm he smiles and that’s apparently all Wilhelm needs because his hands are squeezing the back of Tim’s thighs and his hips are jerking, and he’s coming but it’s Tim’s dopey grin that stays with him even as the rest of the world drops away.

 

When he comes back to himself Wilhelm sits back on his heels, letting his softening cock slip out. Tim’s eyes have closed again but the blissful grin is still on his face, and as Wilhelm collapses down beside him Tim stretches and rolls on his side.

“Haven’t lost your touch, I see,” Tim says sleepily, eyes hooded.

“You bet your ass I haven’t.” It’s a dumb joke but Tim laughs anyway, a little out of breath and giddy. Wilhelm lets the sound fill him up, expanding to fill the empty spaces inside of him, and tries to etch this moment in his memory.

In a minute he’ll get up and find a washcloth; maybe round two will take place in the shower, Wilhelm doesn’t know. He’s got a window of time here, and he means to hold on to every moment of it that he can, before everything goes back to normal.

Before he has to leave again.


	6. Tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place between Chapters 14 and 15 of _Grapes of Wrath_.

Tim rolls over and stretches, eyes still closed against the early morning light, deliciously sore in all the best ways. He reaches over to Wilhelm’s side of the bed and his hand finds only empty blankets where Wilhelm should be.

Tim’s eyes fly open. This can’t be happening to him  _ again _ .

Tim pushes himself upright, but Wilhelm hasn’t gone far - he’s sitting on the side of the bed, facing away from Timothy, staring at his hands. He looks like he might have been there a while.

 

“Where are  _ you _ going?” It comes out a lot sharper than Tim intended, but the anxiety mounting in his chest is wrapping itself around his voice. This is the last time all over again, only this time apparently Tim gets to  _ watch  _ Wilhelm walk away.

“I’m just - I’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” Wilhelm says, and Tim feels the frown on his face deepen.

“Out of my -  _ what  _ are you talking about.” Tim shifts around so he can see Wilhelm’s face. Wilhelm doesn’t look at him, but his hands clench.

“You don’t want this anymore, I know that. I’m just saving you the trouble.” Wilhelm shifts as if to get up, but he stills instantly when Tim catches his arm.

“Saving me the trouble,” he repeats, and if Wilhelm means what Tim  _ thinks _ he means - Tim feels his stomach drop as the implications sink in. “You think I’m going to  _ kick you out _ .”

Wilhelm gives him a little side glance. “Aren’t you?”

“Oh my god,” Tim says, and now the pieces are starting to fall into place. He feels a little sick at the thought that if he had slept just a little bit longer Wilhelm would have left  _ again _ and they wouldn’t be having this conversation, but it’s overshadowed by the hope that’s building in his chest. “Is that why you left me?” It hurts to say it, but the look of confusion on Wilhelm’s face almost -  _ almost  _ \- makes up for it.

“ _ You _ left  _ me, _ ” he says, and Tim wants to laugh at the absurdity, at the  _ waste _ . “You said you didn’t want this life anymore. I figured it was easier for me to leave than to watch you do it.” Tim does laugh at that, short and disbelieving, and Wilhelm frowns and him, drawing back.

“Oh my god, Wilhelm, you moron, you freaking  _ idiot. _ ” Wilhelm pulls his arm out of Tim’s grasp but Tim’s already clambering up so he can kneel next to Wilhelm on the bed. He takes one of Wilhelm’s broad shoulders in each of his hands and turns him so he’s facing Tim.

“Okay, I want you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.” Wilhelm frowns at him but Tim feels almost high with the realization of what must have happened, of how close he came to losing this a second time.

“I did want to leave the mercenary life behind. I was good at it but it wasn’t happy, you know? So yes, I was leaving.” Wilhelm tenses but Tim’s not done. “But this is the important part, so listen up. I wasn’t leaving  _ you _ .” Tim gives Wilhelm a little shake. “I’ll repeat it as many times as it takes for you to hear it. I was leaving the life. I wasn’t leaving  _ you. _ ”

Wilhelm blinks and Tim lets that sink in for a minute, then he sits back on his heels, letting his hands drop from Wilhelm’s shoulders. “Do you know what I thought when I woke up and you weren’t there? I thought your only interest in me was how well I could shoot. And if I wasn’t doing that any more,” Tim lifts a hand and waggles his fingers, “then it was bye-bye Timothy.”

Wilhelm inhales sharply. “Tell me that wasn’t true,” Tim demands, and he’s almost positive that he’s right but he needs to hear Wilhelm say it.

“It wasn’t true,” Wilhelm breathes, and then he’s grabbing Tim’s head and crashing their mouths together. It’s awkward and short, but it might be the best kiss Tim’s ever had, because when Wilhelm pulls back he looks at Tim from inches away and says “It wasn’t true, of course it wasn’t true, how the fuck could you think that?”

Tim laughs giddily, the weight of years wasted lifting off of him. “What was I supposed to think, huh?” Wilhelm growls and pulls Tim into his lap, and Tim straddles Wilhelm’s legs, balancing himself on those broad shoulders. He kisses Wilhelm again, slower this time, and when he lifts his mouth he’s smiling.

“We’re both idiots, how about that?” Tim says, and that makes Wilhelm grin too. If Tim didn’t know better - and at this point, he’s not sure he  _ does _ \- he’d say Wilhelm’s eyes look a little wet, but he lets that pass. “And I think we’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

Tim reaches between them and gets a hand around Wilhelm’s dick. Wilhelm gasps and his hands tighten on Timothy’s hips and it doesn’t take long before he’s gritting his teeth and trying not to buck up into Tim’s hand.

“Stay there,” Tim commands as he leans over to the nightstand and the abandoned bottle of lube.

“Not going anywhere,” Wilhelm breathes, and when Tim settles back over his lap Wilhelm’s eyes are full of promise. “Not going anywhere this time.”

“Good,” Tim says, grinning. He’s still loose from last night, and as he positions himself and sinks down on Wilhelm’s slicked-up cock his breath releases on a sigh and his eyes flutter shut.

When he opens them again Wilhelm is grinning at him softly, fondly, and Tim’s breath catches for an entirely different reason.

“Ready, big guy?” Tim breathes, and Wilhelm leans up and kisses him in answer.

Tim rocks his hips, drawing a groan out of Wilhelm, and as Tim sets a slow and steady pace he tips his head back and closes his eyes, breathless not only at the drag of Wilhelm’s cock inside of him but also at the thought that he almost missed this, that he almost missed out on this  _ again _ . There’s no getting back those wasted years, but Tim plans to make up for them with a vengeance.

Grinding down into Wilhelm’s lap and feeling Wilhelm’s hips buck up to meet him seems like a pretty good start.

“No one else compared to you, you know that?” Tim gasps as Wilhelm grips his hips and bounces Tim a little on his cock. “And I’m not just talking about that,” he says with a grin.

“No one,” Wilhelm says, and at first Tim thinks he’s agreeing, but then he drags his lips down the side of Tim’s neck, beard tickling the sensitive skin. The next part is almost too quiet to make out. “There’s been no one since you.”

Tim draws in a sharp breath at that.  _ No one?  _ He suddenly can’t stand to not see Wilhelm’s face, and he braces his hands on Wilhelm’s shoulders and  _ pushes _ , bearing him down on the bed. Wilhelm lands with a bounce, and the open look on his face drives the breath from Timothy’s lungs.

It’s better this way, Tim thinks as he works himself up and down, Wilhelm’s hips rising up to meet him. He gets to brace himself on Wilhelm’s chest, gets to watch every play of emotion across Wilhelm’s face as Wilhelm’s hips stutter and grow erratic. His own hips jerk as Wilhelm strokes a hand over Tim’s dick; Tim can feel his orgasm building, and he tries to hold out, but Wilhelm’s always been stubborn about making Time come first. Tim bites his lip as his release paints Wilhelm’s stomach, holding Wilhelm’s eyes as his body tightens up and steals his breath away. Wilhelm’s not far behind him, digging his fingers into Tim’s hips and giving one last, sharp thrust before going still.

  


“We’re doing things right this time, okay?” Tim says as he catches his breath, absently running his fingers through the mess on Wilhelm’s stomach. “No more dramatic announcements. No more sneaking off in the middle of the night.”

Wilhelm slides a hand up and around to Timothy’s back, holding him close as his softening dick slips out. “Is now a bad time to mention that I like it when you’re bossy?”

Tim laughs. “Jerk.” He shifts to get up, leg muscles suddenly protesting now that the endorphins are receding a little bit. “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up.”

They still have a lot to sort out, but as Wilhelm follows Tim into the bathroom, hand on Tim’s back like he can’t quite bring himself to stop touching, Tim can’t help but feel optimistic. They’ve got time, they’ve got determination, and they’ve got a second chance, which is more than most people can say.

That’s more than enough for Tim.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find us at [Jillus](http://jillus.tumblr.com) and [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


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